JINGLE ON MY SON!

29.1.07

Stirrings in the North Shields Jungle,blood on the pub door.Tigers in among the working lasses,captains in glasses passed out on the floor.She’s got a price on the sole of her red shoes,someone’s flogging fish in a corner.What’s a sailor boy to dowith a sexy Chirton mermaid?Her hair is long with mystery,she’s got a dirty history.Parrot in the corner’stelling filthy tales.Women come and go,seeking out Shields romeos.Down oneand bed one,it’s a rough old thing;this divewrithingwith bought flesh;this music in the blubber,I can hear a baby cry.Fishing boats leave in morning,pile of broken hearts behind them:harbour beauty,harbour lovely dreams;they will cover up the hardness,soften her tough lips.Bite on baccy,snort your snuff,she might just strutsome stuff for you.Make you spurt out of Tynemouth,into the arms of the strapping sea.